The Lycan's Despair
by werewolfvampirelove
Summary: Prequel to my story "Rebirth of the Lycans." Before Maya's husband Embry died, and set during Evo; Lucian is actually alive and escapes after Corvinus finds what he's looking for in the mortuary. This is how they came to be the broken souls they were.R
1. Thirty

**Prologue**

I hadn't felt whole in eight hundred years, and I seriously doubted that fact would change now. After Alexander Corvinus seemed to have found what he was looking for and left the room, I fled the vampire mansion's mortuary. I didn't seek out any of the Lycans for a good bye. I simply rushed to our lair and grabbed what I was looking for and left, with Sonja's pendant around my neck once again- I had hid it in my pocket. I would head for Seattle, Washington in the United States; the farthest place north and west of England that I was willing to go. It was a large enough city where I could start over and blend into, until my soon-to-be mortal life was over. The briefcase seemed to weigh me down, but it didn't nearly as much as my heart did. I still ached for Sonja, and as I was believed to be dead, there was nothing more I could do for my Lycan brethren. I was off to shoulder my pain away from every single living soul until my existence could finally end.

**Chapter 1- Thirty**

"What do you want for your birthday?" Embry asked, nuzzling my neck.

"Don't say that word; don't even _think_ it, because that means I turn- that even _more_ forbidden word. Besides, it's not for another eight months or so. Just write me a song," I said, laying my head on his shoulder.

I didn't want to turn thirty. I didn't want my youth to be over. Besides, Embry would be forty-seven not long after. I had a hard time thinking about the fact that he'd age before me, so I simply chose not to focus on it. I frowned. True, I'd fallen for a few men five years older than me before, including my ex-husband, Alex. But I'd never pegged myself for the fall-for-a-man-nearly-twenty-years-older type. And then I married him. The front man of The Odd Men Out was my husband now, and had been for years. I was still in disbelief that he'd chosen me of all people, or that he'd even noticed me at that concert in Ann Arbor. I always chalked it up to the concert being held at a small venue because of my self-esteem, but Embry insisted it was because I was more than noticeable; I was exquisite.

"Now you see? That's _exactly_ why I have to ask you eight months ahead of time, so that there's time to write the lyrics and collaborate with the guys to add the instrumentation." He grinned at me, and I laughed in spite of myself.

"Embry, it's just me. No pressure," I laughed.

"You're my _wife,_ Maya. I love you. If I'm writing a song for your th…"

"THIRTEENTH…"

"For our _thirteenth_ birthday," he amended, "then I want it to be perfect."

"Awww, come here," I gushed, pulling him close, and gazing into his gorgeous hazel eyes. I ran my hands through his thick curly brown hair- and prayed he'd never go bald- and kissed him.

It was almost disgusting how giddy he made me, and if I were anyone other than myself I would have hurled a little, but the fact that I was the one so happy, and not an onlooker, I just embraced gushing a little when I was around him.

"Thirty…" he muttered under his breath.

"Ugh! That's it!" I clobbered him with one of the couch pillows, squealing as he grabbed me and started tickling me.

I sweat to freaking _God_, Embry, AH! STOP!"

He tickled me mercilessly as I ineffectually beat him over the head with the pillow.

"I don't need to see you to do this," he laughed as I shoved it into his line of vision.

"Fine, UNCLE!" I gasped, unable to breathe I'd laughed so hard. I straightened and regained my composure when I heard the phone ring.

"Hello?"

Silence. Higher-pitched breathing. A little girl.

"Misha? Is that you?"

Hesitation.

"Misha? Hi, sweetheart. Do you want to talk? I miss you…"

Click.

I sighed. She hung up on me. This was the fifth time this month. Up until now she rarely called. I just wished she'd say something. She seemed so afraid to get to know me. I let my hand linger over the phone for a moment after I hung it up.

"She didn't want to talk again?" Embry asked sympathetically, coming over to rub my shoulders. I nodded wordlessly, tears welling in my eyes.

"I really wish I could get her to come out here, at least to visit," I whispered.

"I know," he said, feeling defeated. He made it his responsibility to try to make me feel better in these situations, but I felt it to be undue and excess stress on him. It was out of love, but it indirectly involved Alex, which officially made it unfair to him to have to shoulder this too. He wouldn't have it any other way, though, and so every time Misha called and I stressed over her silence, I could see that he died a little inside that Alex's arrangements still affected our relationship and put strain on my decisions about childbearing. His stress was a wasted effort.

"It's up to Alex, though," I grumbled. "And that would mean taking her for Christmas or Easter or something when there's no school, and of course holidays are when a parent wants their child with them the most…" I trailed off, starting to cry.

He stroked my back tenderly as I leaned over the kitchen counter where the phone was.

"Someday she'll understand. Someday when she doesn't see the world in black and white she'll understand the divorce and why you left Michigan for Virginia. Someday she'll be old enough to decide for herself what she wants to do. You've just got to give her time. And whatever you do, don't give up baby," he whispered gently. "You're good to her for what little she lets you do."

He wrapped his arms around me, and I leaned back into his embrace from my hunched position over the phone on the counter. The world seemed to fade away as _I_ remembered why I left Michigan for Virginia.

"Thank you," I sighed, feeling happy and complete once again.

"You're welcome. I love you." He smiled at me when I turned around to face him.

"I love you too," I declared joyously. "Sing some of your song ideas for me," I requested.

"For the possible new album?"

"Yeah."

"Alright. It's not a sure thing, though."

"I know." I smiled, feeling all aglow inside. "I just like the songs regardless."

He smiled, too. His beautiful voice and lyrics flooded our living room, and I pulled out my guitar and aimlessly plucked out a few chords that went along with his a capella lines.

"That sounds awesome, keep it up," he encouraged. "I'll be sure to employ your chord ideas."

"Oh, please. You know there's a reason why you have Zack on guitar and not me," I winked.

"Yeah, I met him before I met you," he teased, grinning."

"Oh, poor Zack!" I wailed. "That's mean!"

"I'm kidding; besides, Zack taught you everything you know."

"But I don't play anything like him; he's a virtuoso! _And_ a mandolin god, I might add."

He stuck his tongue out. "Come on. You're getting better and you know it."

I smiled. "Okay, fine. But I can't take credit for any future chord employment."

"Sure you can."

He kissed me, and the night continued on this way, with music, teasing and relaxing company found in each other. I couldn't imagine for the life of me how I'd ever lived without this before, or how I ever would again. I shuddered, and decided not to think about that. Embry wasn't going anywhere. I strummed my guitar, and blissfully harmonized with Embry's clear, golden voice here and there. The notes worked together in perfect sync in their own little world of bliss, much like our own, not having a need for the world outside our four walls.

A/N: This is a relatively short chapter compared to any I've written in the past. For those of you who just popped in, as the description states, this is a prequel to a story I already wrote, "Rebirth of the Lycans." These are two OC's, but I promise there will be Lucian in this story, too. I've already written up to chapter three, and Lucian is in chapter two. Embry is a fictional representation of Barry Privett, the lead singer of Carbon Leaf, but I'm not allowed to use real life people so I renamed him. Zack is Carter Gravatt, the guitarist. He really is a virtuoso, and you should listen to Carbon Leaf's music and see for yourself! I had a hard time telling what color Barry's eyes really were, so I decided they're hazel. I have a crush on him, so I wrote him into my original story, and Maya is based off of me, Alex is based off of my husband who I am NOT divorced from in real life, and Misha is based off of my daughter.


	2. Briefcase

**Chapter 2- Briefcase**

Singe knew me well. Not only did the briefcase have a six months' supply of the anecdote that would make me a mortal, but it contained the necessary papers to show that I was a current citizen of England and not an eight hundred year old Lycan. I could become a citizen of America without a problem. He and Raze alone knew of my intentions to leave and become a mortal, and only Raze knew why. He had been with me in the time period that Sonja had died and the Lycans had first revolted at my hand. He knew the pain I'd endured and how her death had changed me. Now it was time for me to just let go. I was believed to be dead, and I felt I had no further purpose.

The briefcase also had enough money for a down payment for and mortgage payments on a house for a year- undoubtedly stolen from the vampires- that I could exchange at customs for American money. I was all set to start over again as I had been planning for months.

The plan now was to take a train until I could get to a port and board a ship. Getting on a plane with a briefcase full of some unknown chemical wouldn't look good at all, my instinct was telling me. When I reached America I would take a train all the way to Seattle and find a motel, then immediately search the real estate market for a home. As I fled the Lycans' hideout on foot, I turned back one last time with a grateful look for all my brethren had done for me. I was often so demanding of them, but it was only because I was so consumed with ending a war that I could see now was useless to try to stop. That and I knew their capabilities and limitations. The men tried to act like I was so much stronger than them, and to a point that was true, but I was trying to get them to act on their own and be just as strong. They had to know how to fend for themselves and _be_ strong. I wanted them to be stronger, better, than they sometimes acted. I wanted them to transcend street fighting amongst themselves and to transcend the vampires on their best behavior. As I turned my last glance at the tunnels behind me for the road ahead, I hoped that in my absence, and without my encouragement, that they would become the men I knew they could be; that they _were_. I boarded the train restlessly, my desire for anything but sleep completely void. I took Singe's instructions for the anecdote out of the briefcase and read them.

_Take the anecdote once daily for six months. Start with the vial on the top left and work towards the right from top to bottom. The vials will increase each day in dosage of human DNA components and other matter, therefore increasing its potency daily. As you wouldn't transform in public, do _NOT _take in public; this anecdote will burn violently as it enters the bloodstream, as it will be rewiring essentially your entire genetic makeup- the werewolf part. You will want to be away from prying eyes as you experience its full effects. They will last for several hours. If you miss even one day of the anecdote you will have to start all over again. And finally, you must take it at the same time each day without exception. Even taking it one minute later than the day before will count as one day missed, so ensure that all clocks around you are accurate. You will be sorely missed around here, and Raze wishes you would reconsider._

_-Singe_

I smiled vaguely. Raze. He was a true friend. He would be alright, though. And Singe would never admit how he felt, but rather the both of them just dutifully lent a hand. I would miss them, too. Nonetheless, eight hundred years later I still didn't miss Sonja any less. It was time to take a break and truly grieve her now. I owed myself as much after centuries pitted against the vampires and assisting that fool, Kraven. It was time to allow myself to think of _her_; to hurt. It was time to grieve without a fixation on anything that would distract me from the pain.

The train ride passed uneventfully as I closed my eyes and allowed my weary frame to rest. In my mind I saw her icy blue eyes, her long, black flowing hair and her pale skin. I saw her defiant and laughing smile. I heard her confident voice, and the way she simply called me "blacksmith" in front of the vampires, but how the word was laced with affection behind the façade we displayed and her stern exterior. A few lone tears fell from underneath my eyelids, and I allowed the fearsome cold drops to squeeze through and roll down my cheeks. They were wretched drops indeed; they had no healing properties. They only stung and chilled, summoning more of the same- a physical reminder of what torment the soul was already endearing and longing to escape. It seemed, though, that tears only held me a prisoner to the pain, for as I would weep I'd only feel fresh waves of grief. I held my composure for the ride to the boat dock, only allowing a few free-falling drops to escape. I didn't need attention for my pain; only a cure.

I imagined, aside from the burning effects of the anecdote that I'd been warned of, what being a mortal would feel like. To me, all I could feel by imagining was the finality of a mortal life. I would not commit suicide, but eventually I would age and reach an end to my life. That, to me, was only a small comfort now as that was yet decades away most likely, but a comfort it was regardless. A few decades were minimal compared to eight centuries of grieving. That finality was what I clung to, for it was the sole way I could be completely released of the pain that held me captive. For now, then, since I had no ability to predict how I would feel as a mortal, I thought over and over again of the finality I'd face in six months' time, and the death I'd face some fifty to seventy years after that. I did not idealize any of it, but I simply focused on it. Any other living being would dread that day, but I had had my fill of life. I was tired, weary and full. I wasn't satisfied, but I was certainly full, and that was enough for me. Looking toward the future now, I prepared to go through customs and board ship. My voyage had only just begun, but I knew within my heart that it was nearly at its close.

A/N: Sorry, another really short chapter but that's really all I have to say for now. I promise they'll get longer. I haven't worked on this since I finished "Rebirth of the Lycans," so I stopped mid-chapter 3 and there's potential to expand on that. It'll get better, I promise.


End file.
